


Clint/Coulson 2 - Mistletoe

by tisfan



Series: Stocking Stuffers [16]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Jealousy, M/M, Semi-Public Sex, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, Thor (Marvel) is a Good Bro, clint is a mental 12 year old
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-16
Updated: 2017-12-16
Packaged: 2019-02-15 14:03:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13032690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tisfan/pseuds/tisfan
Summary: Clint is all set up to deck the halls, get kissed under the mistletoe (or something) and generally have a good time...When Phil finally arrives, Clint has a better time.





	Clint/Coulson 2 - Mistletoe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kittyfantastico](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kittyfantastico/gifts).



“Locksley!” Tony bellowed as Clint walked in. Tony was already swaying like a thin tree in a high wind.

“Stark,” Clint said, gave Tony a hug, thumping him on the back. Tony absolutely reeked of rum. “Been hitting the eggnog, have you?”

Tony held out his hand, thumb and forefinger about an inch apart. “Lil bit,” he said. “‘Tis the season and-- what is that?” Tony’s gaze darted down to Clint’s… waist.

“Mistletoe belt buckle,” Clint responded. “Pucker up, baby.”

“No,” Bucky Barnes said, grabbing the back of Tony’s shirt collar just as Tony was bending over. “No taking advantage of the drunk guys, Barton.”

“I am so jealous that I didn’t think of that first, I mean, that’s just,” Tony said, still staring. “Perfectly crude and awful and--”

“Clint all over,” Nat said. She was sighing, one hand wrapped around an overly large wine glass. Seriously, Clint could have raised a goldfish in that thing.

“Aw, morals, no,” Clint said. “C’mon, there’s three of you standin’ here and I’m not getting one kiss?”

“Fine,” Nat said. She sighed and handed her glass over to Barnes. She made a show of hitching up her dress to reveal pale thighs and-- yeah, she drew some gazes to her rounded posterior as she went to her knees in front of Clint and pressed a soft kiss just over the fly of his jeans.

Clint couldn’t help a shiver; he and Nat were close friends but he would totally have taken her to the floor if she’d asked him. 

Nat’s kiss set some level of acceptability, though, and at some point during the party -- Clint lost track, because Stark’s punch was spiked and then some -- he’d gotten kissed, nuzzled, and spent about half the evening in a state of low-key arousal. Darcy Lewis had come by for seconds, and then thirds, and Clint was considering asking her if she wanted to head back to his room for a little Burn the Yule Log when Phil Coulson arrived.

“Gonna get s’more punch,” Clint said, nudging Maria Hill out of his lap. He was so giving her shit about that in the morning, since she was asleep, lipstick smeared across her chin and her hair a wreck. Clint was pretty sure she’d been necking with Thor for a while before practically attacking Clint’s thigh.

“Nice decoration, agent,” Coulson said.

“Yeah, you like it?” Clint’s belly clenched. Coulson… eyed him up and down like Clint was a cheap snack and Coulson was wondering if he was worth the extra calories.

“I remain unsure,” Coulson said. There was a strange, twisted expression on his face. “How many people have been in your pants this evening, Barton?” 

Was that… Clint couldn’t tell. Disapproval? Disgust.  _ Jealousy _ ? Couldn’t be the last one, Clint had come on to Coulson years ago, when he was a fresh-faced idiot straight off Villain Alley. Coulson had sent him packing, and Clint had never asked again. 

Clint swallowed air. It was a joke, that was all, a joke, and, “No one. Everyone’s been outside the jeans. It’s just a gag, Coulson. Aw… bad pun. No.” 

“Good,” Coulson said. “I don’t like sloppy seconds.” He put his hand in the middle of Clint’s chest and pushed him backward until they were in the kitchen’s rather large pantry. 

“Wha--” Clint didn’t even get the word all the way out before Coulson was on his knees, fingers busy at Clint’s fly. Coulson’s touch, even through his jeans, had Clint groaning, aching, springing to attention, in seconds. He backed up until his ass hit the deep-freeze in the back. Coulson had his jeans open, tugged down around his thighs and Clint arched into it, elbows barely supporting him as he leaned back onto the freezer.

For someone as buttoned up as Coulson always appeared to be, the guy could suck cock like a pro. His mouth was soft, hot, wet. Tongue slick and agile, and he had virtually no gag reflex that Clint could find. Clint moved, put his hand on Coulson’s cheek, cupped the side of his face. Slipped his fingers behind Coulson’s ear to keep that mouth right where he wanted it, right where he needed it.

He wasn’t going to last long, but he also heard Thor’s voice in the kitchen and couldn’t regret it. They didn’t have a lot of time before someone was going to stumble over them. And then Coulson’s tongue curled along Clint’s shaft and Clint no longer cared if anyone saw (or heard) them. He was biting down on his forearm to keep his cries muffled and shot a load down Coulson’s throat. 

“Oh, dog,” Clint murmured, his knees wobbling a little as Coulson wiped his chin on his sleeve and then tucked Clint back into his underwear. “Are… are you drunk, Coulson?”

Coulson looked affronted. “I’m out of practice, I admit, but I thought it was pretty good.”

“Pretty good?” Clint stared. “It was fucking  _ magnificent _ . Jus’... why?”

“You’re not my subordinate anymore,” Coulson said. “I don’t have to keep my hands off you, if I don’t want to. And I didn’t want to.”

“That’s why you said no--”

“I’m a professional, Clint, and you were a kid. I couldn’t take advantage.”

Clint scoffed. “I ain’t been a kid even when I was a kid. But you can take advantage of me any time you want.”

“Good to know, agent,” Coulson said. He leaned in for a kiss, and Clint could taste himself on Coulson’s lips and it was the most erotic, wonderful kiss of his life. Right up until Thor opened the pantry door.

“Son of Coul! Archer--”

Clint broke off the kiss, grabbed a box of Thor’s poptarts and threw them at him. Thor caught the box easily. “Go away, shoo. Go on, git!” 

“Enjoy your revels, my friends,” Thor boomed.

“I intend to,” Clint said, pulling Coulson in for another kiss.


End file.
